A Mile in His Shoes
by PJ Zatken
Summary: Now that Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham City and Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sorts his thoughts as to what the past and his recent experiences as Nightwing and Batman have taught him, and what he will do from hereon out.


**NIGHTWING**

**A Mile in His Shoes**

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_

_This fic and the fandom is a far departure from what I normally write. As long as I could remember, I have always been an anime fan...and then there's the Batman saga—more specifically Dick Grayson and his journey from orphan to Robin, then to Nightwing, then as Batman, and now back as Nightwing in DC's 52 reboot of the Nightwing series._

_The timeline for this one-shot fic is after events depicted in the Batman and Nightwing series and before the DC 52 Reboot. Don't know what the new Nightwing writers are going to keep or ignore for the reboot Nightwing Series, so this fic takes the position that everything that happened thus far in the DC universe will still remain as true and that the reboot series (if applicable) are the characters' continuing adventures._

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><p>So much can happen in a lifetime.<p>

Well, that's if I happen to be a normal person. In my case, though, I'm not. I'm very far from being normal. I also can't say that much about the people around me—those who I consider as blessings in my life when I choose to be less stubborn.

Should I say that I've lived more than a lifetime? Maybe yes, maybe no…

There's so much to tell, and yet that still won't cover the entire story of how I came to be where I am today. There are times such as tonight when I can't help but think about the past, remind myself to live to the fullest day by day, and ponder about what the future holds for someone who has lived a life such as I have done thus far.

I admit that memories of Roland Desmond still trouble my dreams and thoughts. Other times, I see my parents die all over again in my mind's eye. Sometimes, I see the helpless child that I was before kneeling on the pool of their blood and crying over their bodies.

If the past doesn't choose to haunt me for a particular night, fears and uncertainties choose to cavort with my inner demons. They spin surreal and frightening visions of failure, taunting, and eventual abandonment from those who I have called my loved ones. They make my fears all too real for me to take.

Whatever I see in my nightmares, whoever the subject was of my odd dreams, the result was always the same. I bolt up from bed with my heart pounding so rapidly, chest constricting so tightly, my clothes drenching in sweat, and my fists clenching the sheets as if my life depends on it.

Isn't there a saying that there's no rest for the wicked? I guess the same applies to vigilantes who have crosses to bear, too. It always takes time to placate those inner demons. Once they do, it will unfortunately be time for me to join the rest of the world as Dick Grayson.

The struggle is even harder while I'm awake. I still shrink and shudder at the fact that at one point in time, I've let down those who I love and care for due to _one_ lapse in judgment. At least now, I could meet their gaze and see that they've forgiven me. Gone were the days where I couldn't look at them straight in the eye. Also gone were the times where the mere thought of confessing my sins to them was just too humiliating—a form of betrayal.

That was my regret. During those dark days, I didn't see the sign and had let many people down. Afred, Tim, Babs...

Most especially Bruce… Batman…. As much as he and I were at odds for all this time, how could I ever let him down? It might have been just _one_ mistake, _one_ lapse of judgment, but it was _one_ too many.

The answer on why did I do it? Why did I let someone die?

I gave up. _That_ was my answer. I was too tired and battered on all aspects from seeing everyone around me die because of me.

If Blockbuster had lived for another day, more would die. He made that known to me, even in his last moments. I simply turned my back and walked away, let Tarantula…Catalina…make good on her desire to kill Blockbuster. I threw away everything that my father and Bruce had taught me. I threw away all that I have believed in and held dear.

No moral compass. No creed. No value for all life. No value for what the law stood for. No care for the chastisement or condemnation that my loved ones, especially my mentor, would say about this misdeed.

Most of all, no value for me, my life, my worth as a human being... I just wanted the carnage to end.

The next second, loud shots rang in the air—one after another.

Roland Desmond…Blockbuster…. He might have been the most despicable devil that ever walked the face of the Earth. Demon incarnate. No matter how badly one would wish to paint Roland Desmond alias Blockbuster, he was still a human being.

Those shots, Tarantula thought aloud, were supposed to have ended her misery and mine. What I didn't know was that for each step I took away from Blockbuster so that she could finish him off, I chose to move from Purgatory and closer to Hell.

Once the deed was done, the silence made everything that I disregarded in those crucial seconds hit me all at once. They flooded my mind. They seeped deep into the core of my being. It was suffocating. Everything spun out of control. I couldn't breathe. My body trembled and my eyes went wide from seeing the blood that soaked my hands. I cried.

What did I do? What should I do? Did anything that I do at the time helped?

Having sex with Tarantula on that rooftop didn't help. Running away, having more sex, and causing mayhem with her still didn't help. Getting my hands dirtier than usual certainly didn't help. Sticking out my neck more often put me in more trouble than help. Laying on that gurney far more often than usual as Alfred tended my wounds didn't help, either.

_Nothing_ helped me, but just like a fool I still scrounged for anything that would give me peace yet had been destroying myself slowly but surely.

I didn't realize that I was crying for help all along, yet too numb and too stubborn to know the difference. I found myself talking to Babs' answering machine. I wanted to fool myself into thinking that I was actually talking to someone as openly as I should. There were near-moments of admitting my wrongdoings to Alfred and Bruce, but those didn't get me anywhere either since I didn't bother opening my damn mouth to spit out the truth.

During those dark days, I just wanted to run away…disappear. The more that time had passed during those dark days, the more that I felt lost. It felt as if the bonds tying me to my loved ones were weakening...being corroded by acid.

Then a point in time came when I truly believed that those bonds were gone. That was when everything had gone from worse to worst. I couldn't relate or even stay too long in a loved one's presence. There was utter shame within me due to the betrayal that I've committed.

My three fathers—John Grayson, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth—had said their respective peace on many occasions about how my life had a greater purpose. Each of my three fathers told me to take the higher road. The road that each man advised me to take on any given situation was loaded with strife and higher expectations, but the consequences on not taking that higher road took a greater toll on my mind, heart, and soul.

In spite of it all, something deep inside me didn't want all of this self-flagellation and guilt to forever bog down my soul…refused it… It was too much. Isn't life worth more than just regret, suffering, and death?

As blind and as lost as I was to everything, I clawed my way back out of the figurative hell-hole that I dug myself in. Even though I slipped a couple of feet back inside that hole, I continued to crawl my way out of it. It was a long way down from Purgatory to Hell. It was an even longer and much murkier road from Hell back to the Purgatory that I was in.

Six months after Blockbuster's death, I _finally_ made my first attempt to come clean with Alfred and Bruce about what happened...after Chemo destroyed Bludhaven and killed so many of her citizens...after I almost became a casualty by throwing every caution to the wind—including one coming from Superman—and went about rescuing as many as I could as a way to redeem myself.

When I finally came clean and told everything to Alfred and Bruce, I thought that I was humble enough to set aside my ego.

I was wrong, so wrong….

I could tell from Bruce's eyes that he was beyond angry. He wanted to understand what went on with me…why I lost my way. He said the forgiveness I sought wouldn't mean anything until I stopped losing sight of the value of _my_ life. His last words to me, which embodied all of his frustration and hope for me at that very moment, said it all…

_You made a mistake, Dick. Are you going to let it be your last?_

At the time, I understood what Bruce said by concept but I didn't fully understand the message behind his words. It was only until last year, when I walked in his shoes as the Batman, that I _finally_ understood what he meant. Before then, I thought that my burdens and sins were so heavy that it wore out my soul.

I was once again wrong, so wrong….

My burdens were _nothing_ compared to those that Bruce had carried since his parents died. His burdens became greater still when he became Batman. The weight of his burden, symbolized and hidden by the cowl that temporarily became my own for a year, bore through the core of my being and placed an anvil-like weight on my heart. I've never been so humbled in my life until that time.

On top of that, I also have Alfred, Tim, and Damian. All of them depended on me, even Damian who could be such a _joy_ at times with personality inherited from his mother and father. I had to stand alongside Alfred much more now than I did before, and serve as a guide and pillar for Tim and Damian—all while stopping Tim and Damian from killing each other, and helping Damian sort things out after he chose to embrace Bruce's ideals over Talia's.

I look back at the year that I merged and became one with the shadow that was Batman—the dark alter ego of the man who had played many roles in my life. His burdens were great indeed, the task of dealing with these demons day after day so similar to Sisyphus' never-ending task of pushing a huge boulder uphill.

I think back on how I have slowly but surely changed.

To start with, I have become a stronger person inside and out. In an effort to counteract the heavy weight of Bruce's burdens, I looked at whatever little light was left inside my heart and counted on it to guide me. That figurative boulder that I've been pushing upward gave me the strength and fortitude to go even beyond what I thought that I could. It also gave me a new-found sense of gratitude towards those who I love and care about.

Alfred kept mentioning from time to time that I had this "light" within me. Bruce and Alfred were _my_ light and during those initial days last year, it was extremely hard to process that Bruce...my father, my friend, my mentor, and my light...was gone. Cowl or no cowl, Bruce Wayne or not, Batman or not, I had to do my best and be _that_ light for Tim, Damian, Alfred, and Gotham City. That was my legacy to carry out as the eldest son...the son who had walked the _longest_ on Bruce's and Batman's journeys. I just hope in my heart of hearts that I was able to do my best to uphold that legacy.

That year also found me giving more respect for the man whose shoes I had walked in his stead for nearly a year. Yes, I'm still at awe with how he managed to handle everything as Bruce Wayne and most especially the Batman. Yes, I still have this deep sense of wanting to live up to the high standards that he had set for him and for those who walked beside him as his partner.

I might have been Batman for that time, but wearing that cowl forced me to go back to my roots as Dick Grayson, Robin, and Nightwing…to go back in believing the lessons that I've learned in the past. At the same time, though, there are things that are new for me. My view of the man whose shadow I revered, despised, and feared at the same time had changed so much. The trials that I last faced as Nightwing, Renegade, and most especially as Batman helped me find a new beginning in terms of discovering who I really am.

Every member of this family—_my_ family—is a man of action and principle. A man of action would always bear the brunt of his decisions and indecisions, just as how a wraith would forever haunt its intended prey for the rest of his days. At the same time, there also must be no expectations in terms of any praise or reward. Being able to give a long, hard look at one's own reflection in the mirror at the end of the day and sleep peacefully at night were priceless rewards.

For me, I'd be able to look at the mirror tonight and tell the man staring back at me that I've done right with the world today...that I could sleep peacefully and placate those rabid demons. It might be just for _one_ night, but I'll take each blessing and enjoy it—this time, with a deeper sense of appreciation.

Starting tonight, I officially become my own man again. There could always be two Batmans roaming around and fighting crime in Gotham City, but Bruce and I have too much respect for each other to let that happen. He respects that I need to be my own person, while I respect that he had to return to the man that made Batman a legacy.

Just as Batman was the path that Bruce Wayne had chosen, I now continue to choose to walk the path of life as Nightwing.

_Nightwing…. _

The ring of that name sank deep into my soul. It sounded right. As honored and as humbled as I would always be to have temporarily taken my mentor's place, it's good to be Dick Grayson again.

And it's most especially good to be Nightwing again.

I look up at the night sky, my sights fixed on the stars and the full moon that were both out that night. I think out loud, murmuring to myself, "Not too late, is it?"

I would definitely still stumble here and there, but I now know that I'd be walking away from the shadows, fears, and uncertainties with more confidence.

Yes, back into the light… Back to the moral compass that my father shared with me and had been reset when I chose to become Robin and eventually Nightwing… Back into the lives of those who I love with all that I am… Back to the beginning, all while not feeling that I've digressed back into that scared eight-year-old boy who had lost his parents so soon.

Call it a recalibration of that moral compass that I've had for as long as I could remember... I have changed a lot this past year. As much as I give the mantle back to Bruce, I still carry with me the legacy that I have to fulfill as the eldest son…the son who had walked the longest on Bruce's and Batman's journeys. That mantle…that legacy…is mine and only mine to bear—the one thing that I can do to repay for all that had been given to me.

I have declared my independence for a small handful of years now, asserting that I've been my own man since then. However, I really just recently started growing up as an adult. I now have these experiences as reminders. They'll hopefully serve as guides to bring me back home whenever I feel lost.

As soon as I let out a sigh and leaned more comfortably against the balcony railing, I heard footsteps echoing against marble.

"Master Dick, Master Bruce is home…."

I turned around, let out another subtle sigh, and gave Alfred a soft smile. I dug my hands inside my jean pockets and walked beside him, the two of us heading towards the main study where the grandfather clock was. "From business, mission, or pleasure…?"

As Alfred tinkered with the grandfather clock's hands to display 10:48, he quipped, "None of the above."

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit and shake my head as Alfred and I continued our walk deep into the heart of the Batcave. I knew _exactly_ what Alfred meant. Bruce just came back from one of those many dates…the same ones that would eventually lead to nowhere or maybe a night of intimacy here and there to ease the loneliness.

During my first years at Wayne Manor as Bruce's ward, I swore not to build a path comprised of broken relationships and one-night stands. At the time, I felt that he was callous for breaking so many hearts. I ended up doing the same thing as Bruce did—even worse.

As I got older, I realized through experience that the life that Bruce, I, and those who choose to walk the path that we did were doomed to inherit this sad inevitability—the life of a hero could and would most probably be a lonely one. None of us wanted to break a heart. As much as we wanted and dared to have a meaningful connection with another person, this inevitability would always exist…and the only couples who could surpass those inevitabilities are those who could love beyond the mask, the cowl, the uniform, and all that burdens and responsibilities that they symbolized.

What I've learned recently…? The life of a hero could be a lonely one, but it didn't have to be that way.

I'd continue to live that semi-solitary life, until of course I finally become a man of my word…that is if Babs will still take me back. If that ever happened, it would be a time that she would truly believe that she, I, and the world are ready for us to tie the knot. I hope that when that time would finally arrive, Babs would still say yes when I slip that ring on her finger once more.

And just as it had always been since day one, I've always had family. I am just not as blind as I was before to fully realize and be eternally grateful for that blessing.

Alfred and I finally reached the Batcave, with Bruce asking me as he typed on the keyboard and kept his eyes on the huge monitor, "I thought that you were going out tonight."

With a genial tone, I replied, "I stayed. Figured that the rest would do me some good, or who knows—something might happen while you were out."

My eyes remained transfixed on Bruce, who finally turned around to face Alfred and me. "Bludhaven's still has a long ways to go until she can get back on her feet again."

In so many little words, I know where Bruce's comments these past few weeks were heading. I replied, "I've been thinking long and hard. I'll stay in Gotham for a while until Bludhaven's ready for me to come back. Who knows? Maybe I'll end up staying in Gotham permanently."

Alfred asked, "Will you be staying with us until that time comes, Master Dick?"

With an apologetic smile, I said to Alfred and Bruce, "I'll look for a loft where most of the action is. No offense meant, but I need my own space."

Bruce leaned against his chair and deadpanned, "Much better than the one you had when you first moved out, I hope?"

I looked at Bruce. If he had said those words way back when, I would've clammed up and gotten upset. The sting and resentment that used to fester in me weren't there anymore. At least nowadays, I'm able to once again see and appreciate the goodness behind Bruce, his actions or lack thereof, his decisions, and his words. He was a master of stating the obvious and flinging it back on your face. It has been a long time since I recognize that his statement and those made with that similar bend was _his_ way for humor…for connection…for affinity…

Wasn't it Shakespeare who said in one of his plays that brevity is the soul of wit?

Bruce's comment brought out another chuckle from me. I leaned against one of the Chippendale desks and told him, still amused, "If the rent's right, why not? It's not like I look for a dump on purpose. And Haly's Circus is coming back to Gotham. It'll be nice to have easier access to them."

The two men who had been my fathers for most of my life gave me their respective near-non-reactive looks and nodded. Outwardly, it was casual. Inside was a different story.

"I'll be in town, so it means that I'll be here much more often than you'd want me to," I said with a soft smile. "Maybe every weekend, until you get too tired of me."

My words brought smiles to their faces. Bruce's smile was tightlipped. Alfred's was far more generous—something expected from someone who had been a father and grandfather to me. However different they were in all regards, they shared many things in common when it came to me. They cared. They loved. They have sacrificed and would sacrifice anything. They'd always looked out for me. No matter how many years would've passed, no matter how older all of us would've become, I'd always remain a beloved son in their eyes.

In turn, Bruce and Alfred would always be fathers and much, much more to me. I'd do anything and everything to uphold and protect those bonds that hold the three of us together.

What I recognized, now that everything was said and done, was that Bruce and Alfred have done their best in allowing me to be the man that I was meant to be while reminding me of the path that I've always been meant to take.

"By the way, Dick, Alfred and I have something for you," said Bruce as he pressed a button from the console before him.

A peculiar whirring noise came from what seemed to me was a new case where old costumes were showcased. The black layers of metal unfolded one by one to show a costume…a uniform…that I've never seen before.

My eyes went wide to say the least. I was speechless for a while. I then looked at Bruce and Alfred and asked, _"Mine…?"_

"Do you like it?" asked Bruce, his tone still calm and even. "Alfred figured that you've changed so much since you became Batman, so your Nightwing uniform should be able to keep up with you."

"Yes, I love it," I said as a knowing grin escaped my lips. _"Hell, yes…."_

The glass then opened so that I could touch what was inside—the newest Nightwing uniform. This latest incarnation had more similarities to the Batman uniform that I wore. The black that was customary to Nightwing became closer to black than ever before. The lighter blue portion on the chest was now replaced by a styled red wing across the shoulders and covered most of the chest—a pattern more reminiscent of the symbol on Batman's uniform. The gloves and boots have more detail, again a reminder of the role that I filled in just recently.

"Touches of the past, yet moving on to bigger and better things," was Alfred's explanation. I knew that he was happy about my reaction. "Many improvements on this one, but I considered your flexibility and speed when the design was made."

"As always," I said with a smile, my eyes still transfixed and still at awe with the uniform before me…_my _new uniform. "This is awesome!"

"Should I let you know about this uniform's specifications, Master Dick?"

I happily nodded for my reply.

Alfred ran a laundry list of the uniform's features—light sensitive Nomex fire resistant, triple-weave Kevlar-lined material. Additional supplemental body-armor overlays attachable to the mask, the gauntlets, the shoulders, and boots on top of the modified built-in body-armor overlay on the shoulders, boots, and gauntlet. Modifications to the mask, gauntlets, boots which could carry more equipment yet at the same time this uniform being lighter in weight than the old one. Even the arrays of equipment were modified, as he saw fit for my needs and possible contingencies.

"And by the way," said Bruce as he handed me a long black box. "You're going to need these."

I opened the box and in it sat a pair of eskrima sticks. I took them out of the box and gave them a twirl to start. I then did practice blows, testing out the weight and feel of them in my hands. Minutes later, as the exercise continued before Bruce and Alfred, I told them, "_Perfect._ They're just perfect…."

"They're still made of shatterproof polymer, Master Dick," said Alfred as I saw him put away the box while Bruce continued to watch. "Your old ones are still in good condition, but I'd prefer for an overhaul of the entire package. New uniform deserves new equipment."

Once I was satisfied, I put away the eskrima sticks and placed them at the foot of the new costume. As Bruce sealed the glass casing once more with the push of a button, I murmured, "It's a beauty, Alfred. You've outdone yourself again."

"I'm glad that you're pleased, Master Dick."

I then glanced at Bruce. "So it's official now. You're back as Batman. I'm back as Nightwing."

Bruce gave me a meaningful look. "That's how it's meant to be, isn't it?"

While giving Bruce a slight smile as I glanced at the new Nightwing uniform, I simply nodded for my response.

Before I turned my eyes away from the glass and the uniform that it housed, Bruce then proposed, "Now why don't we have dinner upstairs? I'm hungry."

I blinked for a minute. "_Hungry?_ Didn't you just come from a date?"

Bruce, not giving away much through body language or facial expression, simply said, "It was just a quick 'hi and bye' for tonight—nothing more…. So, have you eaten yet?"

"No, not really…." I then sighed with a smile. "Now that you've mentioned it, I'm hungry too."

Alfred made a genial nod. "Very well, Sirs. For tonight, I prepared grilled salmon with a light Grand Marnier citrus sauce. The salmon will be accompanied with a side of brown and wild rice as well as a side of steamed vegetables. I hope that dinner will be to your liking."

Bruce and I exchanged glances and then smiled at each other, with me saying, "Sounds good to me. Now let us eat…and for once, Alfred, would you just sit down and have a good-old-fashioned family dinner with us without you saying no to it first?"

Alfred was hesitant for a while, stunned speechless. He looked as if I've said something blasphemous. After Bruce smiled and nod, showing agreement with my proposal, he said after letting out a sigh, "Very well, young Master. Tonight is, after all, a night of exceptions."

That was settled, then. Alfred led the way and Bruce motioned me to continue our conversation over dinner.

The three of us went upstairs. Before we left the Batcave, I took another quick glance behind to see the new uniform. That happiness from seeing it was priceless. I take it as a sign, a symbol of something that I wanted.

_Renewal…_a return to my roots while finding my way forward as my own man. To start all over again after the many mistakes that I've made in my life, now much stronger to say the least since I walked at least a mile in Batman's shoes.

I couldn't help but inwardly smile as I helped Alfred set up the table. I don't think anything could ruin my good mood tonight.

I know that I'm still far from being whole. I know that I would never live a normal life. I know that life for me would always be a three-ring circus in so many ways. However, I now have a small but newfound sense of peace. The revelations helped me dare take a long, hard look into my soul. From there, those newly-found truths helped me take a glance at those who have been around me all this time in my best and in my worse.

I could've been a better sibling to Tim, Jason, and to all those who choose to fight alongside Batman…a more wholesome significant other to Babs…a better brother and father figure for Damian…a better person by not walking away from my beliefs no matter how hard they might be to keep…

But most of all, be a better caretaker and advocate for my self-worth…something that Bruce and Alfred have both been begging me to take heed of, most especially these last few years.

At least I realize now that forgiveness was attainable…that I could finally start forgiving myself…

But tonight, I'd start and celebrate my transformation by becoming a better and more endearing son and friend to the two men who I now share a meal with—my fathers.

**End**

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer<strong>_

_Batman, Nightwing, and all characters belong to DC and other respective copyright holders. The fic, however, belongs to me._


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